


Silver Bullet

by Michael_McGruder



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-23 23:06:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16628201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_McGruder/pseuds/Michael_McGruder
Summary: "If there's any word of comfort I can offer it's just this, that the face of the beast always becomes known, and the time of the beast always passes."





	1. Hunter's Moon, 1990

Ed Hurley had been dreaming about wolves again.

  
He’d had recurring dreams about wolves ever since he was a kid. They were strange and vivid, not quite nightmares, but he always awoke from them unsettled. Despite living near an old growth forest in rural Eastern Washington, wolves weren’t a common sight, unless you listened to the bellyaching of ranchers complaining about cattle predation. The way they tell it there were more wolves than people, with fixings to take over. Ed wondered why they thought it was a good idea to set up a cattle ranch in wolf pack territory in the first place. The truth is wolves are skittish creatures and don’t like being around people if they can help it. Ed had only seen one in his life. He was 17, on a hunting trip with his dad and his two brothers. They were still Ernie, Eddie, and Billy then, a bunch of rowdy kids. Billy had always been impulsive and easily bored, and Ernie was a constant nag trying to set him straight, never figuring out that half of Billy’s fun came from winding up their tight-ass elder brother. They’d been bickering the whole way up to Eagle Pass, and the entire time they unpacked the station wagon. Ed loved his dad, but Ed, Sr. wasn’t a great mediator. Easier to wait for the storm to pass than get wet trying to fight against it.

Ed slipped away into the woods when he found an opportune moment. He lit a cigarette when he knew he was out of sight, not having told his dad he’d started smoking yet. He wandered down to the river until he couldn’t hear anything but the birds and the water. He smoked half his cigarette and let the other half mostly burn to ash while his mind wandered. Dark was starting to fall and he was about to head back to the cabin when he saw it come through the woods across the river. A big, black wolf. The wolf watched him for a moment before continuing to the bank of the river, bowing its head for a drink. Even as it lapped up the glacier water it kept its eyes on Ed. He never forgot those yellow eyes. Then it was gone, slipping back into the woods as quietly and mysteriously as it had arrived.

That had been the last time the four Hurley’s had been together. Even at their dad’s funeral, Bill couldn’t get his shit together enough to carry Ed, Sr.’s casket out of the church. Instead he was cooling his heels in a drunk tank in Everett of all places.

If Ed had been inclined to look for signs he might have considered that black wolf one, but he thought it fairer to take things at face value. That may have been why he wasn’t able to make heads or tails of his bizarre dreams. Just last night he’d dreamed that he was wandering through the woods and came upon a ghastly creature. Humanish, fishbelly pale, with the head of a hairless wolf. Not quite hairless. Thin, greasy strands of hair hung from the top of its scalp. It came running towards him, screaming. Hysterical, primal screaming, pointing at Ed with accusing fury. Right before it sank its dirty ragged nails into his face he awoke with a start. He couldn’t remember the dream immediately, only panic quickly bleeding away to leave a lingering sense of dread. The details of the dream had only returned at the end of the day as he sat in his truck holding a narrow paper pamphlet, looking at it without reading it. On the front of the pamphlet was a photo of a cowering woman with a black eye, a lot like the one Ed was nursing right now. Behind her the shadow of a giant angry man, presumably her husband. Printed at the top of the pamphlet in big, bold capitals were the words DOMESTIC ABUSE. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. He wasn’t sure which thing he wanted to think about less. He saw the wire rack at the hospital. Pamphlets warning about the perils of drug addiction, alcoholism, STDs, and other sicknesses of the mind and body. He slowly rotated the rack until he spotted the one he held in his hand now.

 _Maybe... maybe Norma would want to take a look at this_ , he lied to himself.

Even now, as he sat in his truck dragging his feet on his way to his own damn house, waiting for the storm to pass. Even now he pretended the pamphlet could be for Norma. It wasn’t even a good lie, Hank Jennings landed himself back in prison, unable to torment his estranged wife ever again. Ed finished his cigarette and leaned his head against the cool window, looking at those beige sheer drapes hanging in the window of the house. The house sitting quiet and ominous across from his gas station like a bear trap patiently waiting for him to obediently step in its mouth. He looked up at the full moon as the clouds parted, and he wished he was on that cold and lonely rock instead of sitting in his truck hiding from his wife. He opened the glove box and threw the pamphlet inside, and slapped the box shut. He turned up the radio, and told himself he’d head on inside after one last tune.

_‘I sat down to my supper, T'was a bottle of red whiskey, I said my prayers and went to bed, That's the last they saw of me...’_

Something made him tear his eyes away from that bright moon and look towards the dark trees blowing in the wind. The longer he looked, the more he felt a sense of dread settle over him as the details of the dream returned. He felt like he was about to watch that naked horror crawl out from his subconscious, through the woods, and come shrieking into his waking reality like some twisted banshee. The longer he looked, the surer he was of his fate.

_‘Don't murder me, I beg of you don't murder me, Pleeeease don't murder me...’_

Ed stepped out of his truck and reached into the bed for his shotgun. As soon as his large hand wrapped around the stock of that gun he let go like he'd grabbed a snake. Was he losing his mind? He was spooking himself so bad over a damn dream. If he kept this up he was liable to shoot someone. He turned around and all he really remembered was the flash of teeth. He didn’t remember screaming or hollering, all he remembered were those teeth, the sound of snapping bone, and the white hot pain that ran through his whole arm.

_‘When I awoke, the Dire Wolf, Six hundred pounds of sin, Was grinnin at my window, All I said was "come on in"...’_

He curled up on the ground, trying to protect his head and his organs as teeth and claws dragged ragged paths through his skin. Blood dribbled in his eye and he started feeling very distant from his body, and that’s when he thought he was going to die. It wasn’t the thought of going that scared him, it was the thought that maybe he didn’t mind so much, and the sting of that notion is what set his heart racing.

_‘Don't murder me, I beg of you don't murder me, Pleeeease don't murder me...’_

Two pops of gunfire sent the animal running and yelping in pain. God, even with one eye and no depth perception, Nadine was a crack shot. She came running up to him with that hand cannon of hers that terrified him so bad, the one he’d tried to talk her into getting rid of. Now he guessed he’d be eating crow for dinner tonight. He looked up at her and she looked angry. Angry at him.

_‘The wolf came in, I got my cards, We sat down for a game, I cut my deck to the Queen of Spades, but the cards were all the same...’_

“Just when I got the engine oil out of the carpet, now I guess you expect me to scrub blood out, too?”

_‘Don't murder me, I beg of you don't murder me, Pleeeease don't murder me...’_

He asked Nadine to call an ambulance. Or had he just thought it? He couldn’t remember. He felt so cold and his limbs felt heavy as timber logs. He looked up at that moon, feeling closer to it than his own body and thought he might die here after all. He wondered if Norma was looking at that same moon right now.

_‘In the backwash of Fennario, The black and bloody mire, The Dire Wolf collects his due, while the boys sing round the fire... Don't murder me, I beg of you don't murder me, Pleeeease don't murder me.’_

 

 

“Ed Hurley was just attacked by a bear.” Deputy Hawk said in that understated tone of his.

“What?” Sheriff Truman said, looking up from his desk. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive,” Hawk replied succinctly. “They’re stitching him back together over at Calhoun Memorial.”

“Anyone know where James Hurley is?”

“Still in Oregon.”

Ed had raised his nephew like a son, and the troubled youth was the only blood relative he had any contact with. James seemed determined to flee the small town of Twin Peaks, where tragedy after tragedy tightened around everyone’s throats like a noose. Truman felt it, and he couldn’t blame anyone for leaving. He wished the trauma of the decade’s close had brought the survivors closer together, rather than isolating everyone on islands of their own private pain. Before Truman could reply, Deputy Brennan raced into his office, tears streaming down his face.

“Harry! In the woods! He’s dead!”

“Whoa Andy, slow down. Who’s dead?”

“Reverend Brocklehurst. He’s... he’s... he’s been decapitated!” the deputy sobbed.

Truman dropped his head into his hands. He wanted to retire. He wanted to wash his hands of this insatiably bloodthirsty town. He wanted to give the responsibility to someone else. Someone like Dale Cooper. He slipped his dossier on the missing agent into his file drawer before asking Lucy to put on another pot of coffee.

 

 

Norma Jennings looked at the phone before it rang, and she wasn’t surprised when it did. Every once in a while she would get spells of minor precognition. Just a feeling, subtle enough that she thought it could be imagined. She was about to check on her sister before answering the phone. She remembered Annie had been sent to Spokane before her body caught up in time to halt her steps completely. It wasn’t the first time. Her stress seemed to sublimate around her, leaving her to wander in its fog. She picked up the telephone instead of peeking in on the phantom in the spare room.

 _“Norma.”_ It was Truman. He explained what had happened to Ed, and that he was alive and stable. _“I figured oughta tell you before you heard it through the rumour mill.”_

“I appreciate that, Harry. Is Nadine... how’s Nadine?” She knew she didn’t have to explain anything to Truman, but neither of them quite knew how to talk about Ed and Norma’s relationship openly. Too accustomed to speaking in the secret language of whispers and knowing looks.

_“She’s in one of her episodes. When they brought him into Calhoun, she was on a tear about carpets. Given the circumstances, Ed’s stay might be an extended one.”_

“I could...” Norma stopped, and the silence between them lingered. She heard a quiet sigh on the other end of the line.

_“I don’t know if Ed’s out of surgery yet, but I have Andy occupying Nadine at the station with the police report. I know what your first instincts are. And maybe that’s why I called you. But listen. I know you’ve had your hands full. With Annie suddenly gone it’s easy to want to jump right back into caregiver mode. But just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay? I have a few other emergencies tonight. But call if you need anything.”_

“Thanks, Harry.” Norma already had one arm in her coat as she hung up the phone.

She felt like she knew her way through Calhoun Memorial better than she knew her own house. The memory of burnt coffee flashed in her brain. She’d read somewhere that the same brain cells that light up when remembering a taste or a sound also do so when actually experiencing it. Is that what ghosts are? Memories becoming a bit too tangible? She found Ed’s room and held her breath tight in her chest as she stepped to his side. She could only look at his torn, broken body for a moment before all of the strength went out of her. She sank down in the rigid chair beside his bed and quietly sobbed, feeling a stoney weight in her heart. Hank, Annie, her mother, Ed, it was too much all at once, and tonight she was too tired to pretend otherwise. She slipped her hand into his, mindful of the IV. The other hand was wrapped in a plaster cast, and an oxygen tank breathed for him. She hung her head and sniffled into a tissue.

“You should have seen the other guy,” a sleepy voice rumbled.

“Oh, Ed,” she squeezed his hand lightly. She carefully picked away some of the flakes of dried blood in his hair. They’d shaved a swath through his temple to put staples in.

“Damn wolves.”

“You think a wolf did this to you?”

“Red Riding Hood scared it away with her Desert Eagle.”

“It sounds like you’re on just the right amount of morphine.”

“You taking me home, babe?”

She didn’t have to say anything as he slipped back into medicated slumber. She wanted to take him with her more than anything. Instead she kissed him gently goodbye and returned to her haunted house.

 

 

“Jesus jumped up palomino,” Truman groaned, reviewing the carnage on their hands.

Ed Hurley was attacked by the same animal that killed Reverend Clarence Brocklehurst, whose remains had been found beside the train tracks, near the Packard Mill. The sound of the attack was overheard by Catherine Martell, along with two or three shots of gunfire. About 40 yards away from Brocklehurst were the remains of another man, gunshot wounds to the head, back, and shoulders, but no animal predation. Found naked with no identification, his fingerprints had been submitted to AFIS. Deputy Hawk encountered a man covered in blood and holding a hunting rifle en route to the mill. The man was currently sitting in their holding cell. Fish and Wildlife had been notified, and were on the lookout for rogue bears, or other dangerous predators. The area was home to cougars, black bears, and grizzlies. It was late October and most of the bears should have been hibernating, but any possible stragglers would be mean and hungry, and wouldn’t think twice about making a meal of someone.

If it was a bear.

The coroner said Brocklehurst was probably killed by a bear. Doc Hayward said it was possible Ed Hurley was attacked by a bear. Nadine Hurley reported firing at a large black animal that, “could have been a bear.” There was something in everyone’s hesitation that nagged at Truman, and he was unable ignore the pattern of uncertainty that was emerging. If that feeling was a slight tremor before, it turned into Mount St. Helens after speaking to the presumed shooter. He was an unremarkable looking man, except for an unusual tattoo on his wrist of a rooster surrounded by a snake eating its own tail.

“Is that a gang?” Truman asked.

“We’re the ones who know the time is now.”

“Oh, a cult. I’m not really in the mood for riddles. Just tell me about what happened. It was dark, there were animal noises, accidents happen, right?”

“This was no accident. I told them so many times, and no one listened to me. The owls think it’s still night, but there are 3376 days remaining, and the time is now.” It was the last thing he said to anyone before clamming up entirely.

The shooter had no ID on him either, and when his prints were faxed over the FBI had Truman on the phone within the hour. It wasn’t the familiar bellow of Director Gordon Cole, but an impersonal stranger informing him that an agent would be dispatched to collect their prisoner, Andrew Fairton, who was wanted for several unspecified fugitive felony charges. Nigel Fenway, their new coroner, found Truman in his office. Recommended by Hayward’s associate in Fairvale, Fenway had come up from Seattle when the volume of dead coming through the small town’s morgue became too much for Hayward to continue as both the town’s coroner and Calhoun’s chief physician. A little young, a little too sure of himself, Truman wasn’t sure what he thought of the man yet, but he wasn’t too hot on the gallows humour the doctor brought with him. The puckish smile he had on his face as he brought up a folder made Truman nervous.

“It must be really something if you brought this up yourself.”

“The rounds I pulled out of your stranger are .375 H&H Magnums.”

“That’s bear-killing ammo.”

“That’s hippo-killing ammo, buddy. But that’s not the fun part.”

“There’s a fun part?”

“They’re made out of silver. Guess your friend was hunting werewolves. We also pulled two .44’s out of his shoulder. Not silver.”

The woods were full of serial killers, drug dealers, and human traffickers, why not witches and werewolves? Cult started to seem less far fetched an idea, especially after what happened with the Rajneeshees in Oregon.

“Listen, keep this under your hat for now Nigel, okay?”

“I’m good at secrets.”

Ed’s odd question kept coming back to Truman throughout the day. When he had a moment to step away, he had stopped in to see Ed as he was being discharged. He looked like hell, but a lot of the swelling had gone down. He struggled with the buttons on his flannel shirt, half the fingers of his left hand bound up in plaster.

“I brought you a cup of coffee from the Double R.” Truman took pity on his friend and finished buttoning his shirt for him. There was a sheen of sweat on his face. Truman put a hand on his shoulder, and he could feel his skin burning beneath his shirt. “Are you sure you’re okay to leave?”

“According to the doc. He just gave me my second rabies shot, said it might give me the flu. Gave me some antibiotics and told me to go home. Told me it was a bear attack.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Well, I hit my head pretty good, I guess. I remember that first bite. Boy I remember that. Felt like I’d stuck my whole arm in a bonfire. The rest is kind of a blur.” He reached behind his head, feeling the stitches keeping the back of his scalp together.

“I wouldn’t worry about committing any of it to memory. I can see Nadine heading this way, so I’ll get outta here.”

“Harry?” Ed asked before he stepped out. “Do bears have yellow eyes?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Nothing, never mind. Maybe I was just dreaming.”

Truman stalled at the door and turned around almost sheepishly. He thought of Agent Cooper’s curious faith in intuition and dreams, and leaned into his gut feelings.

“Hey, do you remember Black Lake?”

“You know I don’t remember anything about Black Lake, and I was drinking anyway.” Ed was instantly defensive.

“Frank may have only been a year older than us, but Pops charged him with looking out for us. You know how he is. Do you think he’d have let us drink on that trip? The hardest thing you had that night was sarsaparilla.”

“Harry, I’m tired. I’m in a lot of pain. And I don’t want to talk about Black Lake.”

“I’m sorry, Ed. I didn’t mean dig up bad memories. If you want to talk, you know who’ll listen,” Truman said, swiping his finger down his temple.

Over the last few years they had been preoccupied with drug dealing and sex trafficking, but the Bookhouse Boys started that night on Black Lake in 1964. All six of them saw something. They could never agree on what they saw, but all of them felt the presence of evil. Folks in town thought it more likely that a bunch of 14 year old boys got drunk and spooked telling ghost stories over a campfire. Truman hadn’t thought about it in years, and he guessed none of the other Bookhouse Boys had either. Hank Jennings always blew a gasket whenever it was brought up. Maybe that was one of the reasons he left. Not the only reason, for sure. But he never seemed to be able to deal with the idea of monsters, unless they had human faces and American dollars. Hawk and Ed seemed the most willing to acknowledge the notion of supramundane forces operating in the wilderness outside Twin Peaks, but neither of them wanted to say much about the Black Lake incident. Andy never said a word about it.

“It’s time to come home, Eddie.” Nadine spoke in a tone that would have given Nurse Ratched chills.

 

 

The car ride home was tense and silent. Nadine stalked into the kitchen, and Ed could hear her chop something roughly. Each strike was a loud CRACK on the cutting board, winding Ed’s nerves tighter and tighter, muscle memory preparing for flight. He delicately called to her.

“Nadine, honey, what’s got you so tense?”

CRACK. Silence. He realized as the question left his mouth that he should have bit his tongue instead. Somehow the click of her heels sounded more ominous than the chopping board. She stood beside the shelf full of shattered porcelain knickknacks, all glued haphazardly back in place. His eyes were fixed on the 14” kitchen knife she held in front of her like a short sword.

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“Do you think I’m blind, Ed?”

“What?”

Nadine slipped the black eye-patch off her angular face, revealing the knot of scar tissue underneath. He didn’t even see her fierce jab to the ribs, but suddenly all the air went out of his lungs, and he collapsed on the couch as everything went grey. It hurt so bad, he wasn’t sure if she’d punched him or stabbed him. She leapt on top of him, waving 14” of deadly steel, screaming until her face turned as red as her hair. Ed brought his arms up to protect his face, but she slapped them away with the broad side of the knife, and he obediently put them down.

“Every pill I swallowed, I thought of you. I was screaming for help, I needed you, Ed. Instead of waking up in the loving arms of my husband, I’m in the arms of some grabby teenage stranger! And you’re in the arms of that whore, in my own living room! Dancing. You were so happy. Ding-dong, the witch is dead.”

“Sweetheart, there was a month between those two nights, the whole thing was a weird misunderstanding,” he said while trying to catch his breath. Nadine rest the knife tip against his lips, silencing him.

“Do you think I haven’t known about you and Norma since the beginning? You thought you could do whatever you wanted, because I’m so small, and you’re just so _big_.”

Ed always felt a way about his nickname. Big Ed. Big E. Sometimes just Big if you’re in a hurry. It wasn’t quite ironic. Ed stood a head taller than most people, and he had the shoulders of a linebacker, but the truth was he was tame as a lamb, and not much of a fighter. He’d lost about every fistfight he’d ever been dragged into. At the moment Big Ed never felt smaller in his life. Nadine dropped the knife on the floor and burst into tears. She hid her face in her hands as she cried. Ed thought she might never stop when she reached out to hold his face in her hands.

“You’re right. You’re big and I’m small. It would be so easy to shatter me like my porcelain dolls. But that’s why I need you, Eddie. I need your patience, and your strength. Maybe running is a Hurley thing. But I need you, Eddie. You promised, you promised to protect me.”

_“You promised! You promised! You said you’d take care of us!”_

Ed remembered hearing Susan screaming those words at his brother Bill.

_“Uncle Ed, mommy and daddy are fighting again.”_

James was maybe four or five at the time and often called Ed when his parents fought. Ed was usually able to console his young nephew over the phone, but tonight sounded different. James wouldn’t stop crying, and Ed could hear Susan doing the same in the background.

_“What am I supposed to do, Bill? I can’t do this on my own! You said you’d help me! You promised!”_

“Listen, buddy, you sit tight and Uncle Ed’ll be around to pick you up. Maybe we’ll grab a couple of burgers, how does that sound?”

When he pulled up to Bill and Susan’s house, Bill’s car was gone. He found Susan on the kitchen floor, crying into a bottle of gin. Ed sat down next to her with a consoling arm around her shoulder until she quieted. He declined a nip off the bottle she offered. He found James hiding under his bed clutching the telephone.

“I’m gonna take James with me tonight, Susan.”

“Do whatever you want,” she said. “Get him out of here before he runs out like his deadbeat dad.”

Ed hadn’t noticed Nadine had unbuttoned his shirt until she leaned forward to lick his collarbone. As she kissed him she held his free hand between her legs, squeaking quietly as she leaned into his palm. He was quickly pulled out of his pants, and when she was done she slipped out of his lap and smoothed out her dress.

“Love is work. You don’t stay when it’s easy and quit when it’s hard.”

 

 

Sheriff Truman met Agents Watts and Finley at the precinct to transfer their prisoner. Finley introduced herself as their medical examiner, and informed Truman that they would be taking the body of the John Doe into their custody, as well as Andrew Fairton.

“That wasn’t part of what we discussed. We’re still in the middle of an active investigation here,” Truman protested.

“We’re aware of your investigation, sheriff. But this one’s not in your hands anymore.” Watts spoke frankly, but not unkindly, handing him a warrant. “We’ll keep you in the loop if anything comes up.” A polite lie.

The man in custody had been sitting like a stone since he was brought in, until Watts and Finley showed up, then Fairton’s face crumbled like a sandcastle under a wave before tightening into a bitter smile.

“I should have known they’d send you, Peter.”

“It’s time to come back to the roost.”

Truman had seen Brennan hovering in the background, but every time they made eye contact Brennan waved him away saying, “later.” He finally came up to Truman after the agents had left.

“Harry, they found this in Reverend Brocklehurst’s coat.” He handed him a plastic evidence bag containing a business card. It was blank, except for a logo. A rooster surrounded by a snake eating its own tail. “I wasn’t sure if I should have brought it up when those two FBI agents were here. I thought they might take the reverend with them, too.”

“Andy, can you find Hawk and meet me in the conference room?”

“They took all of the mill shooting evidence,” Hawk said when he arrived with Brennan. “Fenway’s having a fit downstairs. I thought he was gonna end up in handcuffs.”

“Have you seen this before?” Truman showed Hawk the business card.

“Ouroboros. The serpent eating its tail. It’s an ancient symbol of death and rebirth, of cycles. I’ve never seen it paired with a rooster like that though. Not sure what that means.”

“I thought that the animal attack might have been just a strange coincidence, but this was found in Brocklehurst’s coat. It’s not a coincidence that him and Fairton were at the mill together.”

“You keep saying animal attack. You still don’t think it was a bear?” Hawk asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think Ed really does either. I might be over complicating things, but my gut is telling me there’s more to this. I also know we’ve all seen stranger things in those woods than Smokey. With Fairton, the John Doe, and most of our evidence in FBI custody our options are limited. The only place we're gonna find more answers is with the reverend, and in those woods.”

 

 

Ed carefully brushed his wild curls, watching out for his stitches in the mirror. His jaw was dark with stubble, but he didn’t feel confident enough to try shaving, even with the scrapes and more minor cuts healing. The tooth of his brush accidentally snagged one of his staples. He dropped the brush, hissing and clutching his head as fresh blood dripped into the sink. He grabbed some tissue and pressed it to his head. Nadine would kill him if he stained her towels. It was the smell that brought back the memory of that night. He was suddenly frozen with the wild fear that he would see those teeth if he turned around. The longer he stood at the sink with his eyes screwed shut, the more he could sense the presence behind him. He could feel the hot breath on his neck. He knew if he turned around and came face to face with those yellow eyes his sanity would promptly flee his body, and a heart attack would leave him stone dead. He left the bathroom without looking behind himself once, retreating back to the couch. Wrapped in the orange and brown afghan, he dozed to Andy Griffith reruns until he was awoken by a knock at the door. Doc Hayward had arrived to give him his next shot.

“Hey, you only need one more after this. You’re lucky. Not that long ago you’d need twenty jabs to the stomach to take care of this. How are you feeling?”

“Not so good, Doc. I got headaches leaving me damn near blind, and I can’t shake this fever.”

“You don’t look great.” Hayward slipped on some gloves and inspected his injuries. “You split your stitches along the ribs. There’s a lot of bruising here. Does it hurt to breathe?”

“A little.”

“How about when I do this?” He applied pressure to the bruise, and a sharp jerk and accompanying hiss answered that question. “Your ribs weren’t cracked when you left the hospital.”

“Nadine still has that little _adrenaline_ problem. You know, when she came out of her coma that first time, she was so sweet. Like she really was 18 again. For the first time I felt her affection, not obsession. I felt like I loved her. But it’s a different kind of love. Then that sandbag knocked her back to reality, and she’s been meaner than a rattlesnake since.”

“Where is she?”

“At the grocery, I think.”

“It might be a good idea for you to stay somewhere else for a few days.”

“I can’t leave her, Doc. You know how unwell she is. I promised to take care of her. I can’t cut out because we’re having a rough patch.”

“Every marriage has its ups and downs, but this is abuse.”

Ed hung his head, knowing Hayward was right. He still had that pamphlet in the glove box of his truck, hidden under a stack of napkins. How had his dad made it work? His parents had been together for more than 60 years before his dad passed away. Bill made it almost ten years before ditching his family. Even James ran away from Donna. Was running a Hurley thing?

“How do you get to the middle of your life, God willing, and still not be able to tell the difference between right and wrong? When did black and white become so grey?”

“You can’t stay here, Ed. I can’t let you stay here.”

“What will I tell Nadine?”

“Tell her I sent you to Spokane for some more tests. If she asks I’ll neither confirm nor deny. Just lay low and rest up for a week or two.”

Ed packed a few things and returned to Calhoun with Hayward. After a phone call Norma was there picking him up within the hour. He thought about telling her what happened after Nadine brought him home, but decided he didn’t want to talk about it.

“We used to tell each other everything,” she had once reminded him. _We used to do a lot of things_ , he thought.

Norma set his things up in the guestroom, then drew him a bath. She helped him shave, and tried to even out his hair with trimmers.

“It’s a little high and tight,” she said when she was done, showing him in a hand mirror. He had a hard time looking at anything except the jagged seams on his face.

“Looks good, babe.”

Norma quickly fell asleep next to Ed that night, but he kept drifting in and out, waking when he was just about to slip over the edge into unconsciousness. The cold washcloth he’d put on his head was already warm. He rinsed it under the cold tap in the bathroom, and took a few more aspirin. He stopped at the threshold of the bedroom door, nearly dropping the glass in his hand. In the dark he could see an eye staring at him from the window.

_Nadine? Jesus, did she follow us? Has she been watching us?_

He realized the eye was not outside the window when it moved towards him. He quickly slapped the lights on. No one else was in the room, except for Norma, who was now rubbing her tired eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry, I thought I saw something.” He flicked off the light again.

“Were you sleepwalking?”

“I don’t think so. I’d have to get to sleep first.”

“Insomnia?”

“Bad. I just want this headache to quit. Even the stars are too bright.”

“That’s funny, I thought I closed these,” she said, pulling the drapes together.

Nadine did show up that morning, waking them pounding on the door. Ed was afraid she’d knock it off its hinges. Norma finally answered.

“What can I do for you, Nadine?”

“Where is Ed? I know he’s here, or you know where he is.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is.”

“You viper. You homewrecker. I will find my husband.”

“That’s enough, Nadine. You need to leave now.” Norma closed the door and sat next to Ed, who was shaking like a leaf. Nearly a repeat of the last time Nadine caught them in bed, but she probably wasn’t feeling as open-minded this time.

“She’ll kill me, someday. You wait, someday I’ll finally get a shovel to the head. What if we stay somewhere out of town for a bit?”

“I’ll think about it. I have to go to work, you’ll be okay here?”

“Oh you know me, countin’ flowers on the wall don’t bother me at all.”

Hawk came knocking at the door around noon.

“You want some coffee?” Ed asked, letting him in. They sat at the kitchen table as Hawk filled Ed in on many of the details of their strange case.

“Sounds like you boys are busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. What do you need from me?” Ed asked.

“If you don’t think you saw a bear that night, maybe you didn’t.”

“Meaning what?”

“Maybe the man running around with silver bullets in his rifle didn’t think he was looking for a bear either.”

“Hawk, you are pulling my leg and my leg ain’t up to it.”

“Tell me about what you saw.”

“I thought it was a wolf,” Ed sighed. “You know, I didn’t feel anything after the first couple of bites. It shredded me like I was made of paper, and I didn’t feel a damn thing. Adrenaline does that, I think.”

“Been dreaming lately? Nightmares?”

“I haven’t had much sleep, to tell you the truth. Maybe I was having some a few weeks ago, but that’s what happens when you take stress to sleep. Harry mentioned Black Lake, and now that memory is dogging me like a dark cloud on a cold wind.”

The two men sat silently for a long time, listening to the swaying the trees and the drizzle coming down from the sky. Ed poured Hawk a second cup.

“There’s a _Nimíipuu_ legend about how Coyote defeated the monster of Kamiah. As Coyote was working by a river, someone told him a monster had eaten all the people. Coyote found the monster and tricked it into eating him. Inside Coyote found the people, and the bones of the dead. Started a fire in his belly, and cooked him from the inside out. It took five knives to cut his heart out. When everyone escaped, Coyote cut up the monster and threw its skin and blood over the land, creating different people. _Tsi-Laan_ people have a similar story, except it’s Wolf who cuts up Beaver to make the people. I think they might both be true. Some people seem to be made from monsters. Maybe Harry brought up Black Lake to remind us that there are still monsters in the woods.”

“It was a wolf,” Ed finally said with certainty.

“Wolf is a teacher. Did you learn anything?”

“Run faster.”

“You running now?” Hawk pointed his chin at Ed’s packed suitcase.

“Don’t say it like that. I just need to recharge. I’ll be up at the cabin. You have the number.”

“Just remember, a lone wolf is always hungry.”

 

 

“It feels strange being here on Halloween. I know I’ll be waiting for trick-or-treaters all night,” Norma said once they’d reached Ed’s cabin.

“Anyone showing up here is probably looking for a trick.”

Ed sat in the wide log chair by the wood burning stove, wrapped in a wool blanket. He looked terrible, and Norma’s trepidation about the whole trip grew stronger by the hour. About a third of the way to the cabin, he had to pull over and have her drive. Said his arms felt weak. He hadn’t said anything about being disoriented, but she’d noticed the look on his face as he consulted their map. He looked like he’d never seen it before. She wanted to turn back then, but he insisted all he needed was a little peace and quiet. While Norma cooked their venison steaks and fried potatoes in a skillet, Ed kept getting up to check the windows. He did this several times before she asked what he was looking for.

“I thought I saw something outside. I keep catching something out of the corner of my eye.”

“It’s probably just deer.”

There was a knock at the door. Ed answered to an empty porch. He looked back at Norma with something approaching desperation.

“You heard that, right?”

“I heard a pine cone hitting the roof. Sweetheart, you need to relax. Come and eat.”

She watched him push his food around on his plate, hardly eating anything. He hadn’t touched the wine at all.

“Sore throat,” he said.

“There’s some tea in the cupboard.”

“I don’t want any tea.”

“You need to drink something,” she said, noticing the dryness at the corners of his mouth. He’d been wiping it away all day, and she couldn’t remember him drinking anything since yesterday. “Annie stopped eating and drinking by the time she stayed with me.”

“Oh honey, look it’s nothing like that. I just don’t have much of an appetite. Isn’t it feed a cold, starve a fever anyway?”

The glass of water she set in front of him remained untouched when she went to bed. Ed sat in front of the fire with his acoustic guitar, trying to pluck with his good fingers. They’d been getting stiff lately, to the point he could hardly move them. He wondered if the cast was causing circulation problems, but his fingers weren’t discolored. The plucking didn’t seem to be helping, and they finally refused to move at all. He was afraid to think about the possibility of nerve damage, but it was getting harder to ignore. A knock at the door interrupted his ruminations.

“More pine cones?” he wondered aloud, opening the door. This time there was someone at the door. “Kid you scared the shit outta me,” he said.

“Trick or treat!”

“Where did you come from? Where are your parents?” Ed looked around for an adult or a car, but didn’t see anything except for the woods, shining under argent moonlight.

“Trick or treat!” the kid said again, more enthusiastically.

“I’m sorry kid, I don’t have any treats.”

The child hung their head before digging around in their sack, pulling out a slingshot. Before Ed even knew what was happening he caught a projectile square in the eye. He was on the floor, clutching his gushing eye socket, shouting in agony. The dream was so real he continued holding his face after Norma woke him up, as though his face would spill into his lap if he let go. By the next evening he lay on the bed bunched in pain. Stripped to nothing but his boxers, sweat beaded off him as his muscles went through wave after wave of immobilizing cramps.

“Please, baby, turn off the lights, it’s so damn bright in here.”

“The lights are off, it’s as dark as I can make it. We have to take you back to town,” Norma said, trying to keep the shake out of her voice.

By this point Ed agreed completely, but he still couldn’t move. She called for an ambulance and brought him a bag of frozen peas for his head. She helped him sit up enough to take a sip of water, but it was violently gagged up. His eyes were huge black disks surrounded by a thin green rim. By this time the dryness at his mouth started fully frothing. She couldn’t wait for the ambulance and tried to hoist him out of bed and drive him to the nearest hospital herself. She got as far as grabbing him under his arms when he started convulsing.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh god Ed please don’t do this. Stay with me.”

She tried to get his rolling eyes to focus on her. They looked right through her. Where was that ambulance? She called 911 several more times and each time she was told they’ve been dispatched and should arrive shortly. Norma watched Ed suffer into the morning. She called Truman and tried to explain the situation. He told her he would call the local precinct and send them over, as well as sending Hawk and Hayward. Ed had become mostly still and quiet, though he continued to froth and sweat. Dark was approaching, and there was still no sign of Hawk, Hayward, or an ambulance. Ed sat up as the foam coming out of his mouth turned from white to red. He coughed and spit out a tooth. Another one came loose and fell from his lips. He looked at Norma, his face a horrible mask of pain and fear.

“What’s happening to me?”

All of his teeth began to fall out, and he spit them out like sunflower seeds. Blood spilled out of his mouth as the peaks of pointy replacement teeth pushed out of his gums. Crawling out of bed to the front room, Norma could see in the firelight that he was covered in blood. All of his stitches had popped and the open wounds wept unbidden. They stretched and tore as he screamed. Norma thought the flicker of the fire light was playing tricks on her eyes until she heard the sound of cracking bone. Ed contorted on the floor, as his large hands grew even larger, his nails thicker and darker. His cast burst off his arm, and his shoulders appeared to dislocate and hang off his back like saddlebags. His face deformed and hair started sprouting from his bare skin.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Norma whispered to herself as she stared into a pair of yellow eyes.


	2. Long Night Moon, 1990

Truman stepped carefully through Reverend Brocklehurst’s house. The place was fairly orderly, with clutter in places you’d expect. Some dishes still in the sink, a few dog-eared paperbacks on the nightstand, dying plants in the window. Most of the clutter was concentrated in his study. His desk was littered with notes, books, and photos. Truman picked up one of the books. A dense, hardcover on ancient Irish folktales. He opened to the bookmarked page, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see a story about werewolves. He put it down, and looked at a typed excerpt full of exotic names. _Gerallt Gymro, Laignech Fáelad, Feradach mac Duach_. It was Greek to him, but the stories were clear enough. A shiny crucifix caught his eye, and he wryly wondered if it was made of silver. A manila folder contained several newspaper clippings, mostly to do with the approaching millennium, as well as letters warning about the inevitable catastrophe following the Y2K bug. Truman thought the whole thing was much ado about nothing, but he appeared to be in the minority as folks prepared for the collapse of western civilization. He knew for a fact Toad Barker was building an underground bunker, and stocking it with bottled water and canned preserves, and far more munitions than Truman was comfortable with. He skimmed some of the letters, and they quickly became more biblical in nature. The resurrection and millennial reign of Christ, warnings about powers and principalities, all of them ending with a cryptic countdown. There are 3643 days remaining. There are 3613 days remaining. There are 3583 days remaining. Truman was no math whiz, but given all the context clues in front of him, he guessed this was a countdown to the millennium. Truman remembered a story from Sunday school about the crowing rooster symbolizing the dawn of Christ and his resurrection. He guessed the ouroboros was the serpent of Eden. Was that all this was? Religious, millennial hysteria? The last letter was brief.

_“Marvel not at this, for the hour is coming. There are 3376 days remaining, but the time is now. This is who we are.”_

“Rev, what did you get yourself involved in?”

“Harry, I found these,” Brennan handed him another folder. A dossier on their John Doe, whose real name was Lester Lowe, according to Brocklehurst. The name didn’t ring any bells for Truman. There were more newspaper clippings about a series of murders in Tarker’s Mills, Maine. Vicious, animalistic slayings in the small town, including a pregnant woman and a child. The perpetrator was never caught, but Brocklehurst and Fairton seemed to think Lowe was their man.

“What the hell is going on,” Truman muttered.

“I told you this investigation was out of your hands,” a voice startled them. Agent Watts stood in the doorway, his frown mirrored by his pencil mustache.

“If someone’s bringing evil into my town, I deserve to know about it. I’m the one who has to stay here and either protect my people or mop up their blood, while you go back to wherever you came from, and I’m guessing it’s not Quantico. You’re not FBI, are you?”

“No. But we’re working in conjunction with them.”

“Who’s we? What’s with all the riddles? Fairton knew you on a first name basis, and I’m guessing he’s not in federal custody right now.”

“You’ll have to keep guessing, sheriff. You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with. You’ll just have to trust that we’re working towards the same goal. We’re trying to save as many lives as possible.”

“That’s not good enough, goddammit. Whatever connection you have to these people, they’re in my town, killing my people.”

“Fairton went rouge. He was impatient and obsessive, but he was also clever. He slipped under our radar and went on his own mission of private justice. I can admit our culpability to some degree in not being able to catch him before now. Something I regret. But he’s out of your hair now, and I’m afraid you can’t bring back the dead.”

“Until the cock crows, and the trumpets blow, and the King returns?” Truman said, holding up Brocklehurst’s card. “Y2K millennium bullshit. And what the hell does any of this have to do with werewolves?”

Watts almost smiled.

“We can’t predict what will happen in the next decade, but your minister was right in wanting to protect his flock from the wolves.”

“These wolves?” Truman tossed the book of Irish folktales at Watts.

“Maybe it started with Saint Patrick and his curse on the Irish pagans. Maybe it all started in the Kingdom of Ossory. It hardly matters now,” Watts said. He held Truman’s gaze and seemed to be considering something. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself. “We’ll be in touch, sheriff.”

 

 

Thin blades of sunlight slipped through the blinds of the kitchenette, where Norma was sitting with a cup of hot coffee. Her eyes were raw and red, bleary from fatigue. When the light snuck in she finished her coffee, laced her hiking boots, grabbed Ed’s shotgun, and went into the woods looking for him. The delirium of sleep deprivation made her feel like she was wading through a fever dream. She was struggling to process what she had seen, but parts of it kept returning to her. The way Ed sounded when he screamed. How his face seemed to mutilate itself, bones bulging, others appearing to cave in and reform under his skin. Skin that tore and split while stretching over tectonic transformation, that coarsened and became obscured with hair. She didn’t dream that. His blood was still on the floor, and his teeth were still on the bed, and didn’t come by way of her augury. She didn’t know how long she combed the woods. It was damp and cold, and temperatures had been freezing last night. She had to find him, if he was still alive.

“God, please let me find him alive.”

Norma was no tracker, but she found an erratic blood trail, and eventually found Ed curled up under a felled log. The dried blood staining his body made for grim camouflage. When she knelt in front of him she noticed the pointy teeth littering the ground, and he bore none of the deformities he’d developed last night. She reached out with trembling fingers and felt bone white skin that was cold as a stone. She pressed her fingers along his jugular, finding a thin and slow pulse, then pulled a heavy wool blanket out of her backpack to cover him.

“Ed, you have to wake up, we have to get out of here. Ed, please, come on, we have to go, I can’t carry you back.” She jostled his shoulders, and continued trying to rouse him until his eyes finally struggled open like rusted gates. He looked dazed and began violently shivering.

“Norma? What’s happening?” His voice was slurred.

“Ed, sweetheart, you need to stand up, we have to get inside. I can’t carry you.” He didn’t move and she spoke softly into his ear, gently brushing the tips of her nails along his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Can’t even feel my legs,” he mumbled through chattering teeth.

As she comforted him, she didn’t feel any of his scalp wounds. Most of the stitching had been pulled away, but some snapped pieces still stuck out of skin. She felt around the rest of his body and found none of the injuries he’d left with. Even his broken arm was intact.

“Can you move your fingers?”

His shaking blue fingers stiffly curled and uncurled. Eventually he could move his toes as well. Norma had brought a change of clothes in her bag, and helped him get dressed. When they were done, Ed leaned over and lay back down on the blanket. Norma tried to pull him up, begging him to stand up. She couldn’t get him to move, and finally lay down next to him, trying to keep him warm in her arms.

“Last night I dreamed about Jupiter,” he said in a low voice that she felt more than she heard. “I dreamed that I had floated away from the earth, and from the moon I saw the rise of Jupiter. It hung in the sky, large and menacing somehow. The moon was left cold and dark in its shadow. It’s like we’re all standing in the shadow of Jupiter.”

Norma watched the mist roll down the hills, combing the evergreens, approaching them like a slow sea wave. Echoes of distant thunder warned of storms. She was afraid if Ed stayed out here while it rained that he would succumb to exposure. Feeling slightly more confident that she wasn’t going to hurt him, she grabbed him under his arms and pulled at him.

“Ed, get up. Get your feet under you and stand up,” she said, supporting him as he numbly stood. Pulling his arm around her shoulder, they hobbled back towards the cabin while mist reached out for their ankles. Ed had lost a lot of weight since his injury, but he was still heavy, especially since he could barely support his own body, and Norma struggled under his large frame. It got a little easier when Ed became slightly surer of his footing and they finally reached the cabin. He stopped at the door, looking at the blood spilled across the plank floor.

“Is that my blood?”

“Don’t think about that right now.”

“Do I have rabies?”

“I don’t think so.”

Norma sat him down on the couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and his hands around a hot cup of coffee. The mess would have to be cleaned up, but they were both so exhausted, and neither could not escape the gravity of sleep. When they awoke, Ed seemed a little more present and went to clean himself up while Norma cleaned as much of the blood as she could. She pulled the sheets off the bed, and the mattress was stained nearly black with blood. It would have to be thrown away. They returned to each other just as a downpour began to rattle the roof and windows. Norma threw every clean blanket and pillow she could find in front of the wood burning stove, and they huddled in their nest under the darkness of uncertainty. She saw the faintest whisper of silver lines on his face where there had once been carnage, having transformed into ancient scars like dark magic heavy with the burden of its price. She started thinking of Twin Peaks that way, a place that seemed determined to squeeze as much blood tax from its people as possible. The lulling appeal of the small town dream was languid bait floating over a swift hook.

“It’s like we’re in a lifeboat, lost in a stormy sea,” she whispered. “I called for help, but no one came.” 

Ed wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his broad chest. She closed her eyes, comforted by the sounds of his steady heart. She could tell from his breathing and his stiffness that he was still in a lot of pain, and tried to massage out his aches and cramps. His hand, no longer broken and lifeless, enjoyed the warmth and softness of her face. She kissed his palm, kissed his throat and chin, making her way to his mouth, where she lingered.

“Pieces of last night are coming back to me. I remember feeling like my whole body was on fire, like there was lightning in my veins. I remember feeling like I had to get outside or I’d burn alive. What am I gonna do, babe?” Ed was usually unshakably phlegmatic, even under fairly extreme circumstances, but now his soft green eyes were clouded with fear.

“We’ll figure it out.”

As the night came on Ed’s recovery began to stagnate and decay. It wasn’t long before he was curled up, trembling with pain and dry heaving. He tried holding Norma’s hand without crushing it, while the other was balled in a white knuckle fist. She tried to talk him through his breathing when he would start hyperventilating. She tried to appear calm, but Ed had lost any pretense of equanimity, and his groaning was just shy of a shout. At his age, Norma was afraid he was going to push himself into a heart attack, like her father. She stroked his hair and attempted a distraction.

“Do you remember the first time you snuck into my room when we were kids?” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “I think we were 13 or 14. You were so afraid my dad was going to skin you alive.”

“He was in Yakima, but you didn’t tell me that.”

“I thought you were cute when I teased you. We stuffed that little radio under my pillow, and listened with the volume nearly off. It was so quiet, but beautiful. Almost dreamlike. Do you remember what we listened to?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Hm hm hm hm,” she tried to find the melody. She found it, but she still couldn’t remember the name of the song. “Hm hm hm hm.”

“We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun, but the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach. I remember now.”

Another wave of agony crashed through him. His whole body was taught, muscles bunching painfully under his damp skin, and his breath became rapid and uneven, until it stopped altogether. Norma held his head, forcing him to look at her.

“Breathe, Ed. Breathe. In...” she took a deep demonstrative breath. “Out... Ed, breathe. It’s going to be okay.” She kissed his forehead and continued guiding his respiration. He could barely get a breath in. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Don’t know,” he wheezed. “Hurts everywhere. Feels like there’s an elephant on my chest. Spine feels like its pulling itself apart.”

She sat him upright and gave him some aspirin to chew. The last tremor seemed to take everything out of him, and his body simply quit. He sat very quietly against the couch like a rag doll, and his eyes slipped shut. His breath was rapid and shallow, but he was breathing. Norma didn’t know what to do anymore, except try to keep him as comfortable as possible. She felt like she’d spent the last four days watching him slowly die. She laid down on the couch behind him, burying her nose in his hair, continuing to run her fingers though it. She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she was startled awake by a knock at the door. She raced to open it, almost confused to see Hawk and Hayward. She stared at them agape for a moment.

“Where have you been?” She finally said.

“I’m sorry Norma, but we got here as fast as we could,” Hayward said.

“It’s been two days!”

Hawk and Hayward looked at each other, then looked at Norma.

“We left as soon as Harry called us. It was two hours, not two days,” Hawk said.

Hayward stepped inside and examined Ed, stunned at the miraculous recovery of his body, but deeply concerned with his breathing, and pallor. His thumb pulled open one of Ed’s eyes, checking his pupils with a penlight. Both of his eyes blinked open, and he looked at Hayward with a detached expression on his face.

“Ed, can you hear me?” Ed closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Listen, can you raise your arms for me?” He struggled, and his hands hovered a few inches from his lap before resting there again. “Can you smile for me, just for a moment?” There was a long pause before the corners of his mouth were pulled a little higher on his face before dropping back into a loose frown. “Can you repeat after me? The sun is shining.”

“The... sun is shining.”

“The ice is slippery.”

“The ice is slippery.” His words were slow and laboured, but not slurred, or confused.

“If it’s any consolation, I think we can rule out stroke. Hold this under your tongue,” he placed a thermometer in his mouth before Norma pulled Hayward aside.

“I need to show you something,” she whispered. She led him to the bedroom, showing him the blood soaked mattress. “It was all over the bed, all over the floor. And there’s this.” She opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a handkerchief of teeth. “These are his. They just started falling out.”

“None seemed to be missing.” Hayward looked skeptical, and a little concerned. She showed him the fangs she’d found in the woods by his body.

“A lot happened last night that you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m struggling here, Norma. There’s not a scratch on him, but with the amount of blood loss you’re talking about, he should be dead.” When Hayward returned to Ed to check his temperature, he was taken aback, then checked his forehead with his hand. “Hawk, we need to get him out of here.”

Norma sat in the back of the cruiser with Ed laying on her lap. They came to a bend in the road and slipped into a bank of fog. It was thick, and at that speed they’d only see a deer crossing the road when it went through their windshield. Hawk reluctantly slowed the vehicle, growling. Norma rolled down her window for Ed, who seemed to relax a little as the cold air hit his skin.

“We hit this pea soup on our way up here,” Hawk said. His brow knit together as he thought out loud. “I don’t understand why first responders didn’t show up, especially if you called them yesterday.”

“I called them three days ago,” Norma said firmly.

“Norma, that just isn’t possible,” Hayward argued.

“This has happened before,” Hawk said.

“What do you mean?”

“Black Lake.”

“Oh, this.” Hayward shook his head.

“It’s okay, Doc. No one believed us then, either. I’ve had a while to make peace with that.”

“I never heard about what happened. You all just vanished for a week.” Norma said. “Harry’s mentioned a few things, and I remember the rumours at school, but I never got the whole story.”

“It was a week to you, but it was one night for us. One long night, to be sure.”

“We thought you’d died, or been eaten, or abducted. Brackish wouldn’t stop talking about alien abductions. He lined his hat with foil until you came back. It was one of the scariest weeks of my life. And Ed just wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“It would be hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there. We got separated, one by one. I think we all went through something different, very personal. But one way or the other we were made to see the presence of tangible evil.”

“Alright, that is enough, I don’t want you to put these ideas in anyone’s head right now. I admit that I don’t have all the answers here, but what you’re talking about is beyond belief,” Hayward interjected.

“What did you see?”

“It’s very personal. It’s a private experience.”

“I understand.”

They drove in silence for perhaps an hour before Hawk spoke again.

“My auntie visited me when I was a kid. She came over from Tulalip. She’s funny, but she’s really judgmental sometimes. She’d tell me, _‘Tommy, you’re lucky you’re out here not growing up into some rez rat.’_ That’s what she’d call the kids around her house. Rez rats. She would visit, and tell stories. I remember the story she told me about the Basket Woman. She’s this old woman who lives in the woods. This giant old cannibal woman, wild and hairy, who captures children in her basket to eat. She makes them by beating the skin off your bones, and weaving it into a basket to cook your heart in. She sings, _‘the children will be roasted on the rocks! The children will be roasted on the rocks!’_ Auntie doesn’t tell stories like they’re just stories, she tells us like it’s happening right now out in the woods. My cousin found a wicker basket and shook rocks in it at night. Maybe it sounds silly now, but Basket Woman scared the hell outta me. I got my cousin back, though. I put a snake in his bed.”  
Hawk dropped his three passengers off at Calhoun and headed back to the station. Lucy dropped the phone in her hand when he walked in before shouting.

“Andy! Andy! Harry! It’s Hawk!” She picked up the phone again and dialed Truman’s extension. “Harry, Hawk’s back!”

Both Truman and Brennan dashed out to the reception area, and Hawk found himself smothered by Brennan in a bear hug. Brennan stepped away after a moment, looking slightly embarrassed.

“You just disappeared,” he said, almost a whisper.

“Shorter than a week, I hope?”

“Three days,” Truman said grimly. “I’ll call off the search party. Did you find Ed and Norma?”

“We found them. You’re not going to believe what happened.”

“I think I might have some idea,” Truman said, handing Hawk some of Brocklehurst’s notes he’d stashed in his pocket. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

 

 

Hayward could not bring Ed’s temperature down, no matter what he did. Worse, it continued to rise. When it reached 112, they but him in a medically induced coma. Hayward had a very frank discussion with Norma about the inevitability of brain damage.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t gone into multiple organ failure yet.”

“You saw what happened to him at the cabin. You saw what happened to his injuries. Could this be the same thing?”

“At this point, I can’t give you any solid predictions. It’s possible, but we can’t count on that. Everything has been wildly atypical.”

“Atypical? He turned into a fucking werewolf!” God, it sounded so absurd when she said it out loud. Hayward even flinched when she said it. She sounded completely unhinged, and actually laughed. She was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. She watched Hayward slowly wring his hands. “Am I losing my mind?”

“Maybe you should stay with us for a little bit, until you’re feeling a little clearer headed.”

Is this how Annie felt? Trapped in her own alternate universe while people stared at her with pity and a touch of fear? Is that what Hayward thought he was looking at? Just another hysterical woman? Should she change her last name to Bates?

“I think I should just go home.”

“Get some sleep, Norma.”

 

 

Ed sat by the lake, dangling his legs in the cool water. The sun was a blood red eye, blazing with fury and retribution. Wildfires had ravaged much of Eastern Washington, and a thick haze hung in the air. It was nearly unbearable, but he’d found refuge in the lake’s soothing embrace. Ordinarily he liked the heat, and the way it brought out the rich sweet smell of the cedar trees, but even he had to admit this was excessive. He submerged himself, trying to touch the mossy rocks at the bottom of the lake. He swam further out each time, trying to plumb its depths. He let himself float to the surface, keeping just below it, looking at the trees from the other side of the mirror. A different world. He heard a splash as something dove into the water next to him.

 

 

Ed’s temperature began to drop on its own throughout the night, and he startled the nurse when he sat up in bed and looked at her with clear, but desperate eyes.

“God, I’m hungry,” he said.

The nurse ran down the hall to fetch Hayward. Hayward stood in complete awe, watching Ed devour the nauseating swamp goo that passed for hospital food, and guzzle their sour, burnt coffee, asking for seconds. All of his vitals were stable, and his mind appeared clear and cogent.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Hayward muttered. “I may as well retire, this flies in the face of everything I’ve learned in my medical career. Ed, I’d like to send you south for a CAT scan.”

“Doc, I feel great,” Ed insisted. “Hell, I feel like I could run to Seattle and back. I gotta get outta here and get some real food though.”

Hayward kept Ed in the hospital while they ran further tests. Eventually Hawk and Truman came by. Hawk had gotten used to Ed’s extreme pendulum of health to some extent, but Truman barely knew what to say.

“You guys gotta get me outta here,” Ed said. “I’m starving.”

Truman was still struggling to keep his mouth from hanging open as he and Hawk watched Ed polish off his fifth burger at the Double R. Shelly Briggs stood beside their booth, stunned that she might be serving him a sixth.

“You gonna eat those fries?” Ed asked Truman, picking a few off his plate before receiving an answer. Truman pushed his plate towards his friend.

“All yours, Big.”

“Where’s Norma?” Ed asked Shelly.

“She’s not back from her vacation. I thought you went with her?”

“It’s a long story,” Truman said.

“Nadine’s been in here a couple times looking for you, Ed,” she warned. “She’s pretty upset.” Ed’s new found energy seemed to leave him all of the sudden, and some of the colour left his face. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I’ll have to handle it eventually. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of more, her or this bill I’m racking up. Still gotta get a tow up to the cabin to get my truck. It’s not a lot of fun riding the Harley in the rain and snow.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Truman said. “Hopefully no one else gets lost in a wormhole.”

Brennan arrived and joined them at their table, sitting next to Ed. He leaned over and hugged Ed, who gave the deputy a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Ed. We were so scared when all of you disappeared.”

It was late and few people remained in the diner, but Truman still spoke in a low voice, giving Ed the latest details about the Mill Mauling, as the town had started to call it. He told him about Watts’s visit, and Brocklehurst’s collection of apocalyptic literature, and the dossier on Lowe. Ed frowned.

“My cousin’s family are Lowe’s. Thought one of them was a Lester, but I only met them once at a big family reunion. A minister, I think. Baptist. Never quite saw eye to eye.”

Truman showed him a photo of Lowe he’d taken from Brocklehurst’s collection. Ed looked at it for a while and his shoulders sagged.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“That him?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, Ed.”

“I mean, it’s not like I knew him. But it’s still... family.”

“Do you think he came here looking for you?”

“I don’t know why he would. Like I said, we only met the one time. Do you think he really killed all those people back in Maine?”

“I don’t know,” Truman said. “What do you remember about your weekend?”

“I guess I was sleepwalking?

Hawk actually laughed out loud. No one else seemed to find it as funny. Ed looked a little embarrassed and very confused.

“I don’t know what Doc Hayward told you,” Hawk said, “but Norma thinks you turned into a werewolf.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not sure I don’t believe her.”

“It’s all this crap you guys are reading at the Rev’s house, getting in your heads. This is a bunch of bullshit,” he repeated, getting agitated. “You don’t believe any of this nonsense, do you?” Ed asked Truman and Brennan. The two officers looked away self consciously. “Unbelievable.”

“Norma wasn’t at the Rev’s house. You got torn up by a wolf on a full moon, and made a miraculous recovery by the next. At some point ignoring all the signs becomes more absurd than the answer itself,” Hawk said.

“I wish I had a tape recorder so you could hear what you sound like.”

“Here, catch.” Hawk tossed something at Ed, who dropped it like a hot coal as soon as it landed in his hand.

“Goddammit, what the hell?” Ed was about at the end of his rope with this conversation. Brennan checked his hand and there was a red welt on his palm and fingertips. Hawk picked up the silver dollar Ed had dropped on the table.

“You’re the strange thing in the woods now, _himi·n_.”

 

 

Truman drove Ed to Norma’s house while the others went back to the station. They sat parked in front of the house, quiet for a while.

“Werewolf,” Ed snorted. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Harry, do you really believe any of this?” Truman was silent. “You do, don’t you?”

“Let’s just say I believe we ought to watch you on the next full moon. If nothing happens, great, but if something does,” Truman threw up his hands.

“If I turn into a werewolf. Are you hearing yourself?”

“Look, just be at the Bookhouse on the 2nd. And the 31st. It’s a blue moon. Lucky us.”

“That’ll be a fun new year’s eve.”

“I’ll bring the bubbly.”

Norma answered the door, looking like she’d just come out of a deep sleep. Before Ed could apologize for waking her up she pulled him into her arms. He kissed the top of her head, petting her hair. She smelled so good. He bowed his head an buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. He couldn’t help but lay a warm, wet kiss on her throat, and playfully nibble her jaw. By the time he filled her mouth with his tongue, his hard-on felt agonizingly constricted by his jeans. He slipped a hand under her nightgown, caressing her inner thigh with his long fingers before reaching between her legs. She squirmed and trembled under his touch. If she hadn’t been pressed between him and the wall she would have fallen to her knees by now. This isn’t what he came here for, but he couldn’t stop himself from picking her up and carrying her to the bedroom. He pulled her panties off with his teeth and slowly spread her legs. She was afraid the neighbours would hear her cries, but the notion seemed to excite Ed even more, and took it as a personal challenge to see how loud he could make her scream. The sun was coming up by the time they were finished. They lay together in her bed, damp skin on skin, and Ed was still feeling antsy until he saw the light bruising on her hips where his hands had gripped her. He began apologizing profusely, massaging the area gently.

“I’m so sorry, babe. I just don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“This is absolutely at the bottom of the list of things you have to apologize for,” she sighed deeply. She felt a firming heat pressing against her from behind. “God, how can you still be going?” Norma was exhausted, but she still felt a deep heat rekindling as he slipped between her thighs and massaged her swollen wet skin. She groaned into her pillow when he pushed himself inside her, clutching the edge of the mattress, holding on for dear life. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex like this, and she hoped it wasn’t an isolated incident. As they were catching their breath, Norma wiggled out of his arms to the bathroom. He tried following her into the shower, but she kicked him out with a swat. “Jesus, Ed, I need to get ready for work.”

“I should probably check in with Nadine.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at the gas station? Or around the corner?” she asked while towel drying her hair.

“I think I’ll walk.”

“Are you sure? It’s a long walk.”

“Yeah, I need a stretch.”

 

 

Norma was still glowing when she came in the diner. Shelly noticed immediately, and raised her eyebrow with a smirk. On their first smoke break, the pair stood in the back parking lot in their heavy coats. They watched the noisy freight train rumble by, and Norma gave Shelly some of the details of her last rendezvous with Ed.

“Man, and I thought Bobby was enthusiastic. I’m a little jealous, that smile hasn’t left your face all day.”

“It’s funny,” even though they were alone, Norma dropped her voice just above a whisper. “The first time we tried to have sex, well, the first couple of times, he couldn’t fit it in. He was just too big.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why do you think he’s called Big Ed?” Shelly’s face turned scarlet and she hid her grin behind her hand. “He didn’t want to hurt me, but I swear he almost cried that second try. Obviously we got there eventually.”

“The first time with Bobby was in his car. It wasn’t that long after I married Leo, but he’d already turned into a total scumbag. Bobby had given me a ride home from the diner, and we parked around the corner from the house. Leo was home, and it felt a little dangerous. We didn’t know how dangerous at the time, and it was still exciting.”

“Be it a parent or jealous partners, boys perform pretty well when they think someone might kill them afterwards.”

 

 

Ed breathed in the cold air, crisp with the smell of pine and fresh snow. He could see his breath, but he hardly felt the cold at all, and he enjoyed the slight burning chill on his cheeks. The thrill of being alive waned quickly as he approached his house. He had no idea what time it was when he’d arrived, but his hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door. He stepped inside, as if waiting for a bomb to go off. Silence. He slipped off his coat and crept through the living room, as he’d done a thousand times. He licked his dry lips and finally called out.

“Nadine? Are you home, honey?” He heard a shuffle from the other room, and braced himself. Nadine emerged, staring at Ed. She stared at him blankly until grief and relief cracked her face. She brought her hands to her mouth, hiding a sob.

“Ed,” she said so gently. She raced into his arms, holding him tightly. She cried, and he held her trying to calm her. “Ed, you came back. I thought I had finally driven you off. I’m so sorry, Ed. I want us to start over. I want—” she stopped, looking up at him. Her hand brushed his face, and his temple. She picked up his left arm, and finally pulled up his white t-shirt, seeing nothing but healthy, unbroken skin. “How?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain any of this.”

“Oh Ed, you don’t have to explain anything right now. I’m just glad you’re home.”

This was not the reaction he was expecting, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleasantly surprised. She kissed him, and he immediately opened his mouth to deepen it, pulling her closer in his arms. One hand trailed down her back to squeeze a firm glute.

“Ed,” Nadine giggled, blushing.

She couldn’t remember the last time he initiated their intimacy. When Nadine lay in a deeply satisfied sleep, Ed sat in bed anxiously bunching the sheets in his hands. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, and something resembling guilt washed over him in wave after wave, becoming more intense by the minute. He felt like he’d cheated on Norma. With his own wife. God, what a twisted dynamic they had. He told himself this of all things he shouldn’t be feeling guilty about, but that didn’t stop the coils from tightening in his stomach. He also felt guilty about feeling guilty. Thinking about the look on Nadine’s face when she saw him broke his heart. He wasn’t a spiteful man, and he never wanted to hurt Nadine. That was the whole reason he’d stuck around, wasn’t it? Maybe she meant it when she said she wanted a fresh start. Why did the prospect of things getting better scare him so much? He got dressed and leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder, and whispered in her ear.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

He walked down the street until he came to the bend in the road. Instead of continuing down the street he kept walking forward into the woods. He pulled up the sherpa collar of his lined denim jacket. His leather jacket had been destroyed when he was attacked, and he had to drag this old thing out of the closet. Eventually he realized he was following someone. When the man noticed he’d been seen, he found a log to sit on. It looked like the man was in his pajamas, wearing only a t-shirt and flannel pants. Under the dim skylight, it took Ed a moment to realize the man had two ragged holes in his head where his eyes should have been. He quickly turned away as his heart spiked in his chest.

“Jesus.” He slowly turned around again to look at the man. “Lester?”

“Cousin Edmund,” he greeted. “Come sit with me. I come a long way to talk to you.”

“What were you doing in Maine? I thought you guys were down in North Carolina?”

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Edmund.”

“Because of you. Did you kill all those people?”

“I guided their souls to the afterlife, delivering them to eternity. God granted me jaws that devour the stars and time itself. The cold bite that swallows the sun. But from where will a sun come into the smooth heaven when Fenrir has assailed this one? It was a test. All that power, all that hunger. I didn’t remember any of it at first, and then I remembered all of it. The Lord could not have lead me this far astray. If He wanted me to stop, He would have stopped me.” Lester’s voice was a desperate plea. “I failed the test. I fed the wrong wolf. I begged Him, every night I pleaded the Lord to lift this curse from me, never stopping to consider what He wanted me to see through those eyes. That wolves can see in the dark, and seek light. It’s hard at a time like this to find the words to offer you any comfort. The bible tells us not to fear the terror that creepeth by night, or that which flyeth by noonday. And yet we do, because there’s so much we don’t know, and we feel very small. But the wolf knows the way through the forest and will bring you along the smooth path to the King’s son in Paradise.”

“Goddammit, Lester, why did you come to me?”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“That’s the best you can do?”

“My memory isn’t what it used to be. But Edmund, all I can say for now is, for the sake of your neighbour’s lives, for the sake of your soul, find the light in the dark where I couldn’t.”

 

 

All of Ed’s appetites remained nearly insatiable for the next week before finally plateauing. He’d been having dinner at the Double R a lot after Nadine complained he was eating her out of house and home. He wasn’t sure why Shelly kept darting looks at him and blushing. He ordered a slice of huckleberry pie and another cup of coffee when a couple of people he didn’t recognize sat across the counter from him. He tried not to listen to their conversation, but he picked up they were on some kind of road trip. Lately it was hard not to hear everyone’s conversation. He could hear the people across the room like they were sitting right next to him. He tried to tune it out until he heard one of the out-of-towers speak up to Shelly.

“Hey, this sandwich sucks.” He opened the sandwich, plopping the other half on the plate with a grimace. Shelly was slightly taken aback.

“I’m sorry you didn’t like your sandwich. Would you like to order something else?”

“Anything off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows lecherously at her. She scowled and handed him a menu.

“What you see is what you get. You ordering or paying?”

“Unbelievable, the service in this place. I’m not paying for this, girly, especially since you’re being such a bitch. I want my money back, and I want to see your manager.” The man’s head was suddenly slammed into his plate, bouncing off the counter before slipping off his stool onto the floor. Blood ran out of the man’s smashed nose, and Ed kicked the stool out from under his friend before he could react.

“What the fuck, man? I think you broke my nose!”

“I’ll break my foot off in your ass if you don’t pay your bill and get the fuck outta here,” Ed snarled, grabbing him by the scruff and shoving him back in his seat. He took the receipt out of Shelly’s hand, slapping it on the counter it in front of the man. “And leave a big tip,” he said. The man scribbled a generous tip and scurried out with his friend. Shelly stood stunned, and Ed’s expression softened. “Honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s just, I’ve never seen you so angry before.”

“I’m not about to sit back and let some punk disrespect you like that. Hell, you didn’t even make the damn sandwich.”

Norma could hardly believe it when Ed told her what happened. The sat in a booth after closing, the last two in the diner. He seemed regretful after the incident. He’d never flown off the handle like that.

“I could have really hurt that guy. He was yelling at Shelly and I just saw red.”

“I’m sure that jerk will be fine.”

“Mom told me never to strike anyone in anger. I got into one tumble at school and laid out a kid. I mean, as much as a first grader can do such a thing. She drilled into my head to check my temper. She knew I probably wouldn’t know my own strength and end up seriously hurting someone.”

“June was a good woman. That summer she got sick was hard. You were even talking about dropping out of school at that point.”

“Not sure it would have made much of a difference, either way,” he shrugged. “Don’t need a diploma to pump gas, or cut timber. Or to turn into a werewolf,” he said with a raised eyebrow at her. She didn’t smile.

“Ed, what happened at the cabin really happened.”

“You know what scares me most, Norma, is that I’m starting to believe you.” He considered whether or not to tell her about his dead cousin’s visit. He decided if he was going to be in this with Norma, then he needed to be in it all the way, and it was hardly any more bizarre than anything else that was going on. She seemed a little disturbed by what he had told her. He held her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Harry wants me at the Bookhouse on the next full moon. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. She wanted to hesitate, though. She didn’t want to watch him go through that torture again, but she couldn’t leave him alone.

Norma didn’t see Ed at all the next few days, and the closer they got to the next moon, the sicker the feeling in her stomach became. She knew it in her bones something terrible was happening, and when Ed didn’t show up at the Bookhouse she drove over to his house. She had never seriously confronted Nadine before, and her heart beat faster in her chest as she reached the front door. She didn’t even bother knocking, and the handle turned without resistance. The dread she felt walking into the house seemed to choke her insides like thick, oily smoke. She could hear Ed pleading with Nadine in the bedroom.

“Please, Nadine, please...”

“It’s for your own good, Eddie. I’m going to protect you.”

The bedroom door was open, and she saw Ed on the bed, in the same condition he was in at the cabin. There was something in Nadine’s tone that sounded almost pleased. Sick and powerless, he was finally completely in her control. Or so she thought. Norma gathered all the courage she could find and spoke in a clear, assertive voice.

“NADINE.” Both of them jumped, turning in Norma’s direction. “You need to let him go, right now. He needs professional attention.”

“Burn in Hell, Norma. No one knows how to take care of him better than I do,” Nadine said.

“You have no idea what’s going on,” Norma warned. Should they have told Nadine what was going on? Clearly Ed hadn’t brought it up. “It’s not safe for him to be here.”

“It’s not safe for you to be here,” Nadine said in a cold tone. She pointed the handgun Norma hadn’t seen.

“Jesus Christ, Nadine, stop,” Ed begged.

Even Norma hadn’t expected Nadine to unravel this far, and stood frozen in place. When Nadine cocked the hammer back, Ed gathered whatever strength he had left and jumped at Nadine, trying to pull the gun out of her hands. A palm with the force of a wrecking ball shoved Ed back onto the bed, and when he got up again the flash of the gun put him down again. Blood and bone fragments exploded from the back of his head and painted the wall behind him. Norma didn’t know if she screamed or not, the only thing she could hear was her nervous system shrieking like a power surge. Nadine slowly put her arm down, seemingly stunned by her own reaction. Both of them stared at his limp body as it began to contort and sprout hair. He sat up like a blood soaked ghoul, and the bullet hole closed around his skull as his metamorphosis continued, apparently unbothered by what should have been a fatal head wound. As fangs flashed and a screaming howls ripped from his throat, Norma dove for Nadine, grabbing her out of the path of hateful claws, and they both watched him crash through the bedroom window out into the night.


End file.
